Real Ghosts
by Justine2
Summary: Elizabeth mourns Robert, but unexpectedly they get the chance to reconnect.
1. Default Chapter

Well, while I'm still working on the final chapter for my Cordano story "Just Visiting,"  the idea for this other story came to me.  It's something different, that's for sure.

The characters belong to Warner Brothers and TPTB, although  *why* did they let Romano go?   *sniff*

Elizabeth walked into her house and closed the door. It had been a long day, and a depressing one.  She couldn't shake the bad feelings she had about Robert's death, and the fact that almost no one had come to the memorial service.   All the people he had worked with all those years – they didn't seem fazed at all by his absence.  If they were, they didn't show it.

It's wrong, she thought, as she slipped off her hospital scrubs and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She tried to stop the thoughts from swarming through her head, but they couldn't be ignored. A life should be honored. It shouldn't just end with loneliness and isolation. 

Of course, now she was alone, except for Ella. She had been for a long time. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and brushed it away, but another one followed. She shook her head, trying to will the sad thoughts away, but they kept coming. She thought about Robert, his lonely life, now cut short. There were time over the years when he had surprised her, with his gentleness, his ability to surprise her with kindness and sensitivity. She knew he'd cared for her, but she'd always tried to keep it at bay. Maybe she should have let him get closer to her.  There were times when she thought about it, but she never knew if she should trust him or not. No, that wasn't true. She couldn't let herself trust him, she was too afraid of the deep feelings that might swell up if she'd let them. Maybe things could have been different if she had, maybe neither one of them would have had to be so alone. 

She collasped into an armchair, putting her feet up. She was exhausted. She closed her eyes, took some deep breaths, letting her breathing relax her, until she felt calmed.

She took one more deep breath, then opened her eyes and stood up. She'd go to bed, she decided. Just get into bed and sack out in a dreamless sleep.

She walked into the bedroom. Robert was standing there.

"Not a great turnout today, huh?" he said.

Elizabeth gasped, took a sharp intake of breath. 

"Robert?" she whispered.

"It's me," he said sadly. "Not in the flesh, exactly, but here."

Elizabeth felt the color draining from her face. She felt like she was going to faint, but she didn't. He was standing a few feet in front of her. She walked over to him, slowly, and put her arms around him. She hugged him for a long time. Neither one said a word.

"You feel real," she said. "Almost."

"Almost," he agreed.

She took a good look at him, up and down. "You got your arm back," she said, surprised.

He looked down at his left arm. "Yeah, well," he said, shyly but proudly. "That's the good thing about being dead, they let you look the way you once were.  Although I asked for some more hair and they said no." He smiled at her broadly. "Good to see you, Lizzie."

"It's good to see you, Robert," she said softly. "It really is."

"Thanks for the memorial service," he said. "I know you felt bad that no one came."

"Didn't you?" she said.

"Nah," he said, and smiled. "You were there."

"I was there," she agreed. "I'm so sorry, Robert. I wish you hadn't died--"

"Don't," he said. "There's nothing you can do."

"Isn't there?" she said. "You're here, aren't you? Isn't that some sort of a miracle?"

"No," he said. "Not really. Not like you think."

"Oh."

"When someone dies," Robert explained, "and they were supposed to, you know, like after a long illness, or a long life, then they just die and are buried and that's the end of it. When you die violently though, because of a murder, or an accident, and your body is just yanked away, sometimes you're, uh, I'm, not ready to leave. Not yet. So you, that is, me, I mean, I get to come back. Like this."

"As a ghost?" she said.

"Yeah," he said. "A ghost." He looked down at his body. "Do I look pale?"

"Well, you were always pale," she said, smiling.

"Sassy," he said, and smiled. "I like that."

"So Robert, what are your plans?"

"My plans?" he said incredulously. "Lizzie, I'm a ghost. We don't have plans. It's not like we say 'Today I'm going to a business meeting and later out to dinner.' It doesn't really work like that."

"How does it work?"

"Well, I don't really know," he said, embarrassed. "I guess I just get to hang around a little until I'm ready to leave."

"Okay," she said. "So where do you stay?"

"I could stay anywhere," he said and shrugged. "I could sleep outside. It's not like I'm going to die from the cold or something like that. I could go back to my old house, but I don't really want to do that."

"Why not?" she said.

He shrugged again. "Because it's boring, and because - I don't live there anymore."

"I understand," she said gently. 

"Do you think I could stay here for a little while?" he said.   "Just a little while.   We could talk."

"Of course," she said.

She looked at him and he looked down at the ground. He looked so lost and sad, Elizabeth wanted to take him in her arms, so she did. He leaned his head on her shoulder, and she held him close. After a few minutes he gently extracted himself from her and moved back.

"Thank you," he said very formally.

"You're welcome," she said.   He smiled, and looked down, embarrassed.

"I'm glad you came back, Robert,"  Elizabeth said.   "I didn't think you would, but I had hoped."

He looked up at her, surprised.   "You did?"

"Yes," she said.     "I still have things – to say to you."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all of the nice feedback so far, you guys! Tpel, I never really watched "Buffy" (only saw it once), but the storyline with Spike sounds interesting.   
  
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Chapter 2  
  
"You have things to say to me?" he said, surprised, his eyes wide. "Like what?"  
  
"Don't you know?" she said.  
  
He shook his head. "No."  
  
"Oh," she said. She laughed, embarrassed. "I keep thinking you can read my mind or something." He stared at her silently. "Robert?"  
  
"Still here."  
  
"I know," she said, her face flushed. "I see you, but I just don't know how this works--"  
  
"Lizzie, you keep thinking I do. I don't know what I'm doing."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You sound disappointed," he said, slightly amused.  
  
"Well, I just thought--"  
  
"With death comes wisdom?" he finished for her.  
  
"Something like that," she admitted.  
  
"Maybe I can read your mind after all," he joked.  
  
"You're enjoying this, aren't you."  
  
"Not really," he said defensively. "You think this is what I want?"  
  
"No," she said. "No, I don't. I'm so sorry--"  
  
"Don't," he said firmly. "Don't say that."  
  
"I know. I'm sorr- I'm -"  
  
"Yes," he said, nodding. "I know."   
  
She nodded.  
  
"Can I sit down?" he said.  
  
"Of course!" she said. "Sorry. I mean, please, sit down."   
  
"Thank you." He sat down on the couch and she sat down on the other end.  
  
"Robert," she started. "Oh. Can I get you, anything?" She felt awkward. She didn't know if ghosts drank coffee, tea, anything, and she didn't want to ask him, because he'd say again that he didn't know how it worked.  
  
"No. Thanks."  
  
"Okay," she said. She looked at him. His deep brown eyes seemed to burn a hole in her soul. She couldn't believe they'd ever been apart. He was so close. At the same time, he felt distant, disconnected. Elizabeth felt a chill run over her. Maybe soon he'd be gone, and she'd never see him again, he'd be just a memory, a photograph, a lost piece of her past.  
  
"Lizzie, you okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "Should I not have come here?"  
  
"No. Yes. You should have, I mean. I'm glad you did."  
  
"I feel like I'm freaking you out," he said. She laughed nervously. "Am I?"  
  
"A little," Elizabeth said. She smiled sympathetically. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm sure it's natural, the way I feel."  
  
"None of this is natural."  
  
"No," she agreed. "It isn't." She felt that chill again, and ran her hands over her arms to warm them.   
  
Robert noticed what she was doing and looked down at the ground. He looked back up at her, sadly. "I guess I don't know what I'm doing here," he said.  
  
"I do," she said. He looked at her, waiting. "Unfinished business?"   
  
"Well, yeah, but--" he broke off, shrugging. "I don't know what to say. I thought I did, but then it goes away."  
  
"Well, maybe it will come to you," she said.  
  
"Maybe." he said. "So, what did you want to say? You said you had things to say, to me."  
  
"Yes," she said.   
  
There was a long pause.  
  
He smiled. "Well, Lizzie - any time you're ready."  
  
"Okay," she said. She smiled a little and he smiled back.  
  
More silence.  
  
She reached out her right hand, and stroked his left cheek. He stared at her, surprised, but didn't say anything. "Robert," she said, her hand still on his cheek. "Do you remember that night in the hospital, when you touched my face?"  
  
"I could never forget that," he said. "As long as I live," and he let out a little half-laugh.  
  
"I could never forget it either," she said. "Robert, when you touched me that night, I felt so strange."  
  
"I said I was sorry for that," he said hurriedly. "I was having a weak moment. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you."  
  
"No," she said. "I don't mean I felt strange like I didn't like it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I just wasn't prepared for it," she said. "That time - that was a strange time. Mark had just died. It felt like he had just died, anyway. I was a widow - I still am, but at that time, it seemed so recent. I didn't feel like a single woman, like someone who should be touched. So when you touched me, I felt like it wasn't right. Not that it was wrong, but that it wasn't right." She looked at him. "I'm not explaining this very well, am I?"  
  
"Go on," he said wearily.  
  
"Are you sure you want to hear this?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You look a little tired."  
  
"I am tired," he admitted. "Comes with the territory, I guess."  
  
"Right," she said. "Well. So, anyway, it just felt odd. I had to escape, so I did."  
  
"You said you were being paged," he said.  
  
"Right, I had a page," she said slowly. "Mostly though, I was in shock. So I went out of the room, and stood against the wall."  
  
"I saw you," he said. "I felt like the biggest heel. I wanted to come out and tell you I was sorry, but I didn't think you'd want to talk to me."  
  
"Robert, I wasn't mad," she said. "I was - overwhelmed, and when I stood outside the lounge, I felt dizzy. My heart was pounding, and my cheeks were so hot. I thought about going back in to see you--"  
  
"Because you felt sorry for me," he said.  
  
"No," she said. "No, I didn't. I mean, I did, but it was a lot more than that. I wanted to be with you. But I didn't, and yet I did. Do you understand?"  
  
"I don't know," he said. "Not really, I guess."  
  
"I had a thought that night," she said, "That I wanted you, but I pushed it away. Because I was married. Widowed, but I still felt like I was married. Anything else seemed out of place. Everyone felt so sorry for me, the poor widow, the single mother. Going trick or treating, without the farmer."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The farmer," she said, and laughed. "Mark was the farmer."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It's hard to explain," she said. "I loved Mark, I really did, but that night in the lounge, with you, I felt something I'd never felt with anyone else before. When you touched me, I felt this electric spark, and just for a moment, I thought we should be together. Then it went away, and I felt overwhelmed and ashamed."  
  
"Ashamed," he repeated quietly. "I see."  
  
"No, you don't see," she said. "I had this idea in my head of what I needed, and I couldn't let it go. With you, I had this feeling of, 'This can't be happening,' so I didn't let it happen."  
  
He stared at her.  
  
"I wanted you," she said.  
  
"But then you didn't."  
  
"But then I did." She put her hands on his shoulders. He turned his face away from her, looking downward. "Robert, look at me."  
  
"No," he said, his lip trembling. "I don't want to. None of this matters anymore, Lizzie, I don't know why I thought it did--"  
  
"It does matter, Robert," she said firmly. She tried to look him in the eyes but he still wouldn't look at her. "It does!"  
  
"It's too late," he said, starting to cry. He looked at her, then put his hand up to his face, and brushed the tears away. "I'd do anything to change things, but I can't, I never can--"  
  
"Come here," she said softly, and she pressed his body against hers in a gentle embrace. "I think it helps to talk about these things, to get them out, finally. If that's all we have - then we should take it, right?" He didn't answer. "I have more things to tell you, if you want to hear them."  
  
"I don't know," he said. "Not right now."  
  
"Robert, I think you have things to tell me too. That's what you came here for, isn't it?"   
  
"The words don't come," he said. "I don't know what to say. I wanted to talk to you, but now I don't know how."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"And I can't listen any more to these confessions of yours," he said. "I'm too tired. I didn't know I'd be so tired."  
  
"Maybe coming here has made you tired," she said. "Seeing me, re-living things you didn't think you would."  
  
"Maybe," he said.  
  
"So, is that it?" she said, disappointed. "Are you going to leave now?" He started to open his mouth but she stopped him. "Please don't leave."  
  
"Lizzie--"  
  
"I need you," she said. "I need you to stay."  
  
"Okay," he said. "I'm really tired though. I think I need to lie down."  
  
"Oh," she said. "Are you going to---"  
  
"Sleep?" he said. "Believe it or not, yes. I know it doesn't seem like a very ghostly thing to do, but I'm exhausted, and I don't know all the rules."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Is it?" he said. "You look scared."  
  
"Will you wake up?" she said, her eyes wide with worry.  
  
"I think so," he said. "I told you, I don't really know how this works."  
  
She nodded, looking anxious.  
  
"But I know that if I don't get some rest, I'm not going to make it," he said with a little laugh. "I'll tell you what, I'll sleep right here, on this little couch."  
  
"I have a guest room," she said weakly. "You'll be more comfortable--"  
  
"Nah," he said, waving her off. "This is fine." He looked at her, his eyes large. "Don't worry, Lizzie."  
  
"I'm trying not to," she said, with a small smile.  
  
"You get some rest too," he said. "Good night."  
  
"Good night," she said. He smiled at her, closed his eyes, and was asleep instantly. She looked at the sleeping face and felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. She went to the hall closet, took out an afghan, and laid it over his sleeping form. She didn't know if he needed it, but it seemed wrong to her to leave him sleeping uncovered, ghost or not. She got a pillow, and placed it under his head. She felt his quiet, even breathing.  
  
"Robert," she whispered. He continued to sleep. A tear trickled down her cheek. She hoped that in the morning he'd be awake, and would be better able to talk to her. She felt instinctively that their time wasn't up yet, and that they both had a lot more to say.  
  
More soon...... 


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth woke up in a daze. She really didn't know how much time has passed. She grabbed the clock, looked at it closely. 9:00 am. She got up, pulling on a robe and slippers, and crept tentatively down to the living room.   
  
Robert was gone. The couch was neat; the blanket was neatly folded on the edge. Almost as if no one had been there at all. Elizabeth shivered, turned away. She went upstairs and took a shower, got dressed, got herself ready for the day. She came downstairs, made a cup of coffee, drank it slowly, staring into the cup between sips.  
  
She walked back into the living room and drew in her breath sharply. He was sitting on the sofa.   
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
She smiled uneasily. "You could make more noise, when you come in here."  
  
"Sorry," he said. He stared at her. "You look a bit pale."  
  
"As do you," she said.   
  
He smiled. "Yeah, well."  
  
"I'm glad you're still here," she said. "The rest helped?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "I had a really good rest, and then I left, and then came back here."  
  
"Oh," she said. "Yes, I wondered where you'd gone. That is - I saw that you had gone. I didn't know if you'd be coming back."  
  
He looked down for a moment, then looked back up at her. "I had to get something - something that I thought maybe you should see."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes. The thing is, Lizzie - I wanted to see you, yesterday, but then I didn't know what I wanted to say. Well, no, that's not right. I knew what I wanted to say, but it wasn't coming out. I couldn't get it to come out right. So I thought - maybe there was another way, that I could let you know how I was feeling?"  
  
"Yes?" she said nervously.  
  
"If you're interested, of course," he said hastily. "If you want me to leave - just say so."  
  
"Such politeness," Elizabeth said, smiling in spite of herself. "Why did I never see this before? When you were alive, I mean."  
  
He looked offended.  
  
"I rarely saw it before," she corrected.   
  
"Fair enough," he said.  
  
"Anyway, I don't want you to leave," she said. "I'm sorry for the joke. I thought that was clear to you - that I wanted you to stay."  
  
He shrugged. "I know this isn't easy for you, having me here," he said. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you how I was feeling, but I couldn't find the words, so I thought of another way. I went back to my house early this morning and found something." He reached down and brought out a small leather-bound book from under a couch cushion. "Lizzie, there are things in here that I've never shared with anyone -- never wanted to before. I didn't think it was relevant. Now I'm dead and it doesn't matter anymore. Although it also matters more than anything. Do you understand?"  
  
"Not really," she said. "Maybe. This book - you want me to read it?"  
  
He hesitated for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said. "I don't know if it's right, but I feel that maybe, possibly, it is." He got to his feet. "You're off today?"  
  
"Yes," she said.   
  
"Where's your daughter?"  
  
"I worked late last night, so my nanny kept Ella at her house so she could get some sleep," Elizabeth said. She looked uncomfortably toward the door. "She's bringing her over here in a little while actually."   
  
"Well, don't worry, she wouldn't be able to see me," he said.  
  
"She wouldn't?"  
  
He smiled. "No," he said. "Only you-"  
  
"Oh, only I can," she said, understanding. The skin on her arms pricked a little bit and she rubbed them.  
  
"I'm going out though, anyway," he said. "I'll leave you to - well, you know. Do your stuff. Read the thing-" he gave a backwards glance toward the sofa - "when you're ready."  
  
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Where will you go?"  
  
He smiled. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Maybe I'll go give Kerry Weaver a hard time. Without letting her know who's giving her a hard time. Just a little invisible fun."  
  
"Robert," she said, and laughed a little. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"  
  
"Well, I've got to find some way to occupy my time," he said good-naturedly. He walked to the door, turned back, and smiled at her. "Have fun."  
  
"When will you be back?" she said.  
  
"Later."  
  
She nodded and looked down. When she looked back up again, he was gone. Elizabeth sat down on the couch in a daze. A short while later, Kris arrived. They talked for a moment and then Kris left, and Ella fell asleep in Elizabeth's arms. Elizabeth gently put her to bed for a nap.  
  
Elizabeth got a glass of water and went back into the living room. She sat down on the couch, and slowly pulled the journal out from under the couch pillow. She ran her fingers over the cover, feeling the fine leather, the word "Journal" delicately stitched into it. After a moment she opened it, saw the name "Robert Romano" written in very small letters on the first page. Almost as if he was afraid to claim the book. His phone number was written underneath. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Cute, she thought. She remembered doing that with her schoolgirl diaries, writing down her number so that the book could be returned to her if it got lost somehow.   
  
Her smile faded. This is wrong, she thought. Reading someone else's journal seemed very wrong, even if he had given her permission to do it. Conflicting thoughts ran through her mind. I can't do it. But he asked you to. I can't. Come on already.  
  
Elizabeth sighed and looked down at the book. I'll read the first entry, and then I'll just look at certain pages, she decided. I'll just flip through it and see what I land on, if anything. It still seemed wrong, but she took a few sips of water to calm her queasiness, and started to read.  
  
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	4. Chapter 4

(first entry, undated)  
  
It's not a diary, it's a journal. My friggin' niece bought it for me, if you can believe it. She's a sweet girl, just a little misguided and naive. Like most kids today are, I'm sure. Kyla brings me this leather-bound journal and says here, I got you a present, here's a diary for you to write down your innermost thoughts. I told her "I don't have any innermost thoughts." She said, "Oh, Uncle Rob, everyone has innermost thoughts. You just have to share them." "With a book?" I said. "It's a diary," she said, smiling. Well, whatever. Diaries are for teenage girls, journals are for adults, but they're meant for writers, maybe for travelers, but not for physicians who are way too busy to record their latest wet dreams. What the hell though, I'll humor Kyla, and write in one or two pages. I doubt there'll be more than that.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
December 3, 2000  
  
Nikki came over last night. We'd been out to dinner, I invited her in, she said okay. I tried something different; instead of going right up to the bedroom, we sat down on the couch and listened to Christmas music. I had the Guaraldi CD and made a comment about it being peaceful, but she said she didn't know why anyone would make an album about the Peanuts.   
  
I knew she wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed when I met her, but I thought, what the hell. I had met her at the country club that my golfing buddy invited me to one time. He got me in there a few times as his guest. She was there and we talked and I asked her if we could go out sometime and surprisingly she gave me her phone number. Once she knew that I was a surgeon she lit right up because she saw that I had plenty of money. So I guess money is the main thing with some of these girls and everything else is more minor. She was beautiful and I didn't care that much that she wasn't great at sparkling conversation.  
  
The thing is though, we were lying there last night and she just seemed so damned disinterested in any kind of cozy scenario. Not that she pulled away, she didn't, but we were lying there and I was stroking her hair and I don't think she even cared what I did. She just seemed a million miles away. So I started thinking what am I doing here, and for some reason that made me think of Lizzie and Mark and I got angry, I got angry just thinking about it, because why should they be so happy, why should they get all the luck and everything else. Then I started thinking maybe they weren't happy, maybe they were just together and I shouldn't be projecting anything on to Lizzie because after all, it wasn't her fault that I was lying here with this vacant-headed girl, Lizzie hadn't dragged Nikki over here and told her to lie down and sip some Chardonnay and listen to music.   
  
So I was lying there realizing that it wasn't Lizzie's fault at all, or anyone's fault, it was my fault, so I sat up really abruptly and told Nicki that I was tired and that I'd take her home or pay for her cab. She was like, but I thought you wanted to have sex and I had to say no, I'm too tired and she kind of snorted as if to say yeah whatever. She stood up and got her coat and put it on and she was beautiful, she really was and then I felt strange, like maybe I shouldn't be turning her away, but I didn't really want her to stay either. So she said she'd call the cab and I said okay and I gave her the money for it and we said goodnight.   
  
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April 20, 2001  
  
Carolyn. Another girl I met at the country club. On our first date she said she'd never been out with an Italian guy before. I told her I was half Irish and she said she'd never been out with anyone Irish either. I guess she'd never dated anyone who wasn't a Wasp. I don't know. Beautiful girl. Blonde, blue-eyed. We'd only been out a few times, but I told her I'd been invited to a wedding, and I asked her if she'd go with me. She said okay. I thought of the admiring looks we'd get and the envy I'd see in every other male doctor's eyes when they saw me there with this stunning blonde woman.  
  
When we got to the church though, all I could think of was Elizabeth. Carter said Mark had been delayed. I felt relieved. Maybe he wasn't coming, maybe he had chickened out, gotten cold feet or something. But why wouldn't he want to marry Lizzie? He'd have to be a fool, and as much as I've never been crazy about Greene, he didn't seem like that much of an idiot. So I started thinking maybe something happened, maybe he'd been in a car accident or something, and I felt this immense joy and relief. She wouldn't get married after all. She'd be distraught and need someone there to console her. Someone - maybe me, if I played my cards right. Then I felt guilty for thinking those thoughts. Greene might be a dope, but Lizzie wanted him. She'd agreed to marry him. Could I really wish him ill, knowing how she felt? I decided to stop wishing for something to happen, and hope that he'd be here, soon, ready to marry her and make her happy.  
  
We got the word that he was on his way, and I volunteered to go in and give her the good news. When I entered the room she looked surprised but glad. Her parents were with her. She seemed really calm and serene and I just thought, oh shit, Lizzie really wants this marriage after all. So what could I do? I babbled on for a few minutes and then I told her he was coming. I started to leave the room and then I stopped. She looked beautiful. I wanted her to know that there were no hard feelings, that I understood, that I was there for her, ready to support her, on her wedding day. "Greene's a lucky man," I said, and then too late, wondered if she'd see the envy in my eyes, or hear it in my voice. I think maybe she did. She smiled, said "I know." She looked at me as if to say, he has me now, you need to accept it, to be happy for me, see how happy I am, I'm getting married and this is every girl's dream to be married so just, be my friend, Robert, will you? I got all this from her eyes and I could have been wrong but I don't think I was wrong, I think she was sending me a message, and all I could do was accept it graciously. It was too late for anything else, and I knew it, so I nodded, and left the room, left her to her parents and her privacy.  
  
So I went back to my seat. Carolyn looked at me and smiled, so I smiled, and she took my hand, and I thought, this is all right, it really is. Elizabeth was getting married, but you have someone too. This woman is really pretty, and she's sitting here with you, she came to this wedding with you, and Dave Malucci is looking at you like, "How did you swing that one?" Like he can't believe it. I smiled back at him and gave him a sarcastic little wave and he looked away. Idiot. So anyway. Carolyn. I've forgotten about Elizabeth, I decide, she's with Mark and they're going to be married in a few minutes. That's the end of that. Greene finally makes an appearance and everyone in the church applauds, a "Glad you finally made it" round of applause. He looks like he's gotten drowned from the rain. It's kind of funny.  
  
Then she comes walking down the aisle with her father. Everyone stands up, I stand up, and suddenly I feel a little sick, and sweaty. I try to get a hold of myself, it's nothing, it's just a little warm in here. Too many people. I look at Lizzie again and I feel really dizzy, like I'm not going to make it. I kind of stumble a little and Carolyn looks over at me, wondering what's wrong. I sort of smile, as if to say, it's nothing, and I struggle to regain my balance. Everyone's ooh-ing and ah-ing, and I close my eyes for a minute, trying to re-center myself. I open my eyes again, and feel a strange floating sensation come over me. This is it. Lizzie's getting married, it's real, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm losing Lizzie. I never really had her, but I'm losing her, and I feel incredibly sad but I also feel this eerie calmness, like this is what I've known all along would happen. This is what I must have known on some deep level was inevitable. I never really thought I could get her, and now it's finally been assured. I see Mark approach her and she whispers something to him and he whispers back, and I just think, this is it, the game is finally over, now I know that I've lost. It's good to know when something is over. I feel relief, and I take it in, I welcome it.  
  
More to come..... 


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you everyone for reading the chapters, and for all the feedback. I'm sorry I've been so slow to update.  
  
April 25, 2001  
  
Something happened with Carolyn the other night. I don't really know how to explain it, and it's probably not even worth mentioning here.   
  
We had just had dinner. I drove us back from the restaurant, got to her house. She asked me if I wanted to come up, I said okay. After that - well, it's easy to guess the rest. We had sex. It was good, I don't need to go into great detail about it. It was very good. Fun time. After that, we were just lying in her bed. I figured I'd stay the night. I had done that before, a few times, if I didn't have an early shift. So anyway, we're lying in bed. I was pretty tired, it had been a long day, I figured I'd just go to sleep. I gave her a quick kiss and said good night and kind of rolled over.   
  
She touched my arm and I turned back towards her. She sort of ran her hands over my arms, and then she gently put her arms around me and rolled me towards her. I was sort of surprised, I mean she didn't usually do that sort of thing, but it was kind of nice, so whatever. I was fine with it. She kissed me and then she whispered in my ear, she said, "You really love that Corday woman, don't you?"  
  
I was really surprised. I didn't think Carolyn picked up on things like that, and I didn't really know what to say. It seemed weird to lie, but it seemed even weirder to tell the truth, so I didn't say anything, I just kind of wondered for a minute what to do. She said, "It's okay." I felt even more surprised than before, and then she said, "I don't mind."  
  
"You don't?" I said. I mean, again, I didn't really know what to say, the whole thing was just too weird. She said, "No, it's fine," and she really sounded like it was. I said, "How did you know," and she said, "I saw you at the wedding. You kept looking at her, and you just had this weird look on your face for almost the whole time. So I figured, 'If he loves her that much, and he can just look while she gets married,' well, it says something about you, Rocket. I don't know what it says, but it's something. Maybe that there's more to you than I thought."  
  
I really didn't know what to say, I was just shocked. So I said the first thing that came to my mind. I said, "Look, Carolyn, I've given Elizabeth up. There never was really anything between us in the first place, we never went out or anything. I just had this - crush. That's all it can be, when one person loves someone else, and the other person doesn't - doesn't - return those feelings. Elizabeth is married to Mark, as you know. So I don't - I try not to - think about her anymore." The words just kept flooding out, quickly. "Except at work, because, you know, we work together. So I have to think something about her, but it's really nothing. It's just, work stuff. You know what I mean."  
  
I looked at her in the darkness, wondering what she would say.  
  
"I know what you mean," she said, "But that last part isn't really true."  
  
I looked down at the pillow, ashamed. "Listen, whatever you think of me-"  
  
"I already told you what I thought of you," she said, "I thought so, anyway."  
  
"Oh," I said stupidly.  
  
She reached out and touched my cheek. "I'm tired," she said. "Let's go to sleep."  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
May 19, 2001  
  
Crazy, crazy day yesterday. I'm still wiped. First we had that homicidal maniac, shooting people right and left. Son of a bitch shot Adele. She was practically pleading with me to make her okay, and I was lying and telling her she'd be fine. Well, I didn't say that, I just said that she wouldn't be paralyzed if there was anything I could do to help it, which is true. I don't know, though. It's a bad case.  
  
Then Kerry's on my ass the whole day about her little pal Legaspi getting fired. Wanted me to undo the damage. The woman CANNOT take no for an answer, and she even came into the fucking bathroom, threatening me with what she'd do if I didn't abide by her wishes. Then she sprung her little confession on me. Wasn't prepared for that one.  
  
Of course, my main concern was Elizabeth. That maniac was out there on the loose, and he had a score to settle with Greene, so Elizabeth was a target. I almost had a heart attack realizing that Elizabeth and her daughter could be in danger. I wanted to run out of there and look for her, but what could I do? They needed me at the hospital, so all I could do was take a deep breath and calmly suggest to Greene that he try paging her. I went on autopilot in surgery, but all I could think of was Elizabeth. If something happened to her, if she was to - I couldn't even say it, and I hated myself for being so weak and helpless, and I hated Greene because I knew somehow this had to be his fault - if he failed to protect her, if he let her get hurt. But maybe it wasn't his fault - he was no match for a lunatic. I couldn't do anything about that, could I? I don't know, I was just a wreck. We got word at the end of the day that she was okay and I was relieved, I felt lucky, but still I went home and felt wrecked. Carolyn came over, I didn't even remember that I had invited her to come over that night. She wanted to know what was wrong. All I could say was that it had been a hard day at work and I was exhausted. I let her rub my shoulders as I leaned back, feeling the tears squeeze out from underneath my closed eyes. She was good, she just sat there. I was grateful that she didn't say anything, and she just sat there quietly as I cried.  
  
  
  
   
  
  


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth had to go to work. For the past day, she'd done little more than read Robert's journal entries, stopping occasionally to tend to Ella. The entries had reeled her in - there were many of them, some of them about the hospital, and the staff who worked there, Robert's cases, etc. However Elizabeth was most drawn to the entries that mentioned her, and she found herself flipping through the journal to find more. Exhausted, she finally fell into a deep sleep, and when she woke up in the morning, she was tempted to do more reading. She didn't though, because she she knew she'd get sidetracked and she wouldn't be able to get to work on time.   
  
It was a typical day at the hospital, maybe a little quieter than usual. After finishing a consult in the ER, she found herself stopping by the admit desk. None of the desk clerks were around - Jerry had stepped away and left the desk unattended. Elizabeth hesitated and then went over to Jerry's computer. She typed some words into a search engine and waited to see what came up.  
  
"Hey, Elizabeth," Susan said warmly, as she walked up behind Elizabeth. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," Elizabeth said, making an attempt to minimize the web page.   
  
Susan was too quick though. "Paranormal Happenings?" Susan said curiously, as she looked over Elizabeth's shoulder. "What's this?"  
  
"It's nothing," Elizabeth said, laughing nervously. "Something that someone told me about for a gag."  
  
"They must have a weird sense of humor, huh," Susan remarked. "Stay away from that stuff. It's too freaky."  
  
"Yeah," Elizabeth said. She paused. "So, you don't believe in that kind of thing then?"  
  
"What kind of thing?" Susan said. "You mean ghosts?"  
  
"There's no such thing as ghosts," Kerry Weaver said. She approached the front desk just as Elizabeth and Susan managed to close the web page. "Susan, Elizabeth. What's going on?"  
  
"We were just talking," Susan said, in her best "It's none of your business" voice.  
  
"Sounds like a strange conversation topic," Kerry said critically. She walked to the board, shook her head and sighed. "These patients are going to turn into ghosts if this board doesn't get cleared."  
  
"Hey, don't look at me," Susan said. "I'm only one doctor."  
  
"I know," Kerry said, "I'm not blaming you, it's just we're short-staffed, and ever since - well since Robert passed, there's no one to run the ER. I'm coming down here as much as I can but I have Chief of Staff responsibilities and I can't delegate most of them."  
  
'Yeah, I guess Romano did a pretty good job down here," Susan said. "When he wasn't--" she hesitated, "Well, you know. I don't want to say ill of the dead," she said good-naturedly.  
  
"When he wasn't belittling and abusing people?" Kerry said.  
  
"He was hurting," Elizabeth said sharply. The two women turned to her and stared, surprised. "He was upset and in pain and going through things that you can't imagine."  
  
"Elizabeth, I know Robert had problems," Kerry said patiently. "But that doesn't excuse-"  
  
"You don't know what he's been through," Elizabeth said. "He's been through a horrible time--"  
  
"The man needed therapy," Kerry said. "If he had lived, I would have dragged him to a psychologist and made him go. He would have had to - OUCH!"  
  
"What's wrong, Kerry?" Susan said, surprised.  
  
Kerry looked around. "I felt like someone just threw something at my head." She rubbed the back of her head.   
  
"There's nothing there," Susan said, amused. "You sure you're okay?"  
  
"I felt it earlier today too. It gave me a flashback to the days of Dave Malucci," Kerry said. "He used to throw those paper airplanes."  
  
"Maybe his ghost has come back to haunt you." Susan said. Elizabeth drew in her breath sharply. "Elizabeth? What's wrong? You look white as a sheet."  
  
"Nothing," Elizabeth said. She put her hand to her forehead. "I just - that thing about a ghost, it struck me as funny. Because Dave didn't die." Elizabeth laughed. Kerry and Elizabeth stared at her. "I should - get some water. Excuse me. " She went off to the water fountain.  
  
Kerry looked at Susan. "Maybe she needs some time off," Kerry said. "She's been acting strangely ever since Robert died."  
  
"She'll be okay," Susan said.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Coming home from the hospital, Elizabeth got her keys out of the pocket. She walked up to her front door in the darkness, and as she did she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and spun around. "Robert?"  
  
"Sorry," he said with a small smile. "I just thought if I met you outside it wouldn't be as shocking for you."  
  
"Oh," she said. "Well, it's still pretty shocking."  
  
"I know," he said. "Listen, I'm not going to stay this time--" she started to protest but he cut her off. "I have to go right now, but I just wanted to stop by and uh, thank you for what you said today. At the hospital."  
  
"You were listening," she said. "I knew it. The whole time?"  
  
"Well, Kerry mentioned my name, and there I was."  
  
"And then you threw something at the back of her head," Elizabeth said coolly.  
  
"It was just a paper ball," Robert admitted. "It didn't really hurt her, it was just to give her a little shock. Come on, don't be mad."  
  
Elizabeth looked at him, and then smiled despite herself. "I'm not mad. It was kind of funny."  
  
"It was definitely funny," he said. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Well, I don't know," Elizabeth said. He looked at her and she smiled again. She rubbed the arms of her coat. "It's getting cold out," she said. "I should go in. Won't you come in?"  
  
"Not tonight," he said. "You're still reading the journal?"  
  
"Yes," she said, "But then, you probably knew that."  
  
"Sort of," he admitted.  
  
"Well, I hope you weren't spying on me." she said, half-joking.  
  
"I just kind of came in, took a peek, saw you were still reading, and left again," he said. "Honest."  
  
"Well, it's very interesting," she said. "The journal, I mean."  
  
"I know what you mean," he said casually, and smiled. That little self-deprecating smile, Elizabeth thought. He's always had that.  
  
"Elizabeth?"  
  
She looked up, startled. "Sorry."  
  
"So, I'm going to go," he said, "Let you get some sleep, or whatever." He looked up at her hopefully. "See you later?"  
  
"Yes, of course," she said. "When?"  
  
"I don't know," he said. "Another night this week." He caressed her shoulder, very gently.  
  
She nodded, and turned to opened her door. She went inside, said hello to Ella, and said hello and goodbye to her nanny, who left. Elizabeth shrugged off her coat and poured herself a glass of wine. She sipped the wine slowly, feeling chilled. She turned up the heat a little bit. She walked over to the front door to see if Kris had remembered to lock it. Elizabeth hated to be inside an unlocked house, even for a moment.  
  
Kris had locked it. Elizabeth turned away from the door, but as she did, she felt a slight twinge of something. She unlocked and opened the door cautiously, and peeked outside.   
  
"Robert?"  
  
"Just leaving," he said, and smiled, but his eyes were serious.  
  
"Is everything all right?" she said. "I mean, are you sure you don't want to come in."  
  
"Yeah, I just - I saw the lights of your house from outside, and I was just watching for a minute." He ran his hand over his head. "Must be nice to have a home where you belong, a place that's yours. A family."   
  
"Yes," Elizabeth said uncertainly. She didn't want to tell him the emptiness she sometimes felt being in this house alone, even with Ella for comfort. She couldn't bear to tell him that, not when he looked at her with such longing in his dark eyes. "It is nice here," she said. "Why don't you come in, Robert. You can't just stay out there all night."  
  
"Oh, I'll find some place to go," he said. "Don't worry. Thanks, though."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good night, Elizabeth."  
  
"Good night."  
  
When she looked back, he had vanished.  
  
  


	7. Chapter 7

November 10, 2001  
  
Elizabeth and Babcock had a spat today in my office over the CDC investigation. Apparently she's been snooping around in his office because she thinks he's responsible for her post-op deaths. Babcock claimed that I let her come crying to me anytime she has a problem. Stupid jerk. Is he right, though? I don't know - I admit I'm hardly objective where Elizabeth is concerned. Still, I know enough about her to know that she's an excellent surgeon and not likely to go around killing people. Anyway, the whole thing just got out of hand. I couldn't just show favortism to Elizabeth because Babcock would have whined about it, so I suspended them both from surgery until the investigation ends. I hope Elizabeth understands that I have to be careful where she's concerned; other people might pick up on my fondness for her. Does she have any idea of the depth of my feeling though? I don't think she has any clue. I doubt she even notices what I do most of the time. If I could find a way to detach myself from her totally, I would. I keep thinking one day it will happen.   
  
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February 2, 2002  
  
Bumped into Elizabeth in the hallway today. Literally, bumped right into her. I was coming down a corridor and she came from the right and we collided. Two charts in my hands went flying, and I bent down to pick them up. She apologized for bumping into me, said she was distracted. I told her I heard her daughter was doing well, and she agreed that Ella was a little better.   
  
She thanked me for buying dinner for her and Mark a few nights ago, the night of the Ecstasy incident. I shrugged it off, told her it was Susan Lewis's idea, but I had been glad to okay it. Elizabeth looked confused, and said that Susan had told her it was my idea. I told her it was both of ours, really, it wasn't anything big, we just wanted to do something. Elizabeth nodded. I asked her if there was anything else I could do, she said there was nothing. I told her how sorry I was for her trouble, and she nodded again and smiled and walked down the hall.   
  
"Lizzie," I called out, and she turned back to face me, from halfway down the hall. I walked towards her and she walked a few steps my way.  
  
"What is it, Robert?"  
  
What is it? I'm sorry, I love you, I'd give you the world if I could. "If there's anything I can do - I'd like to help."  
  
She smiled a little, "Thank you," she said, and I noticed the circles under her eyes. "I appreciate the offer." She started to walk off again, then turned back, saying, "I could use a friend right now."   
  
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March 5, 2002  
  
Something odd with Elizabeth today. She had to go home to meet her nanny. We discussed a procedure before she left, and I asked her about some notes of hers that I needed for a paper. She said she had taken them home already, and I asked if I could call her there to discuss the paper. She mentioned something about staying in a hotel. "I've already forwarded my contact information to the nurses in the department, so if you need to reach me.....well of course the hotel is an emergency contact. It's easier if you reach me on my cell, or my pager, but the hotel is where I'll be."   
  
She looked at me, challenging me to retort. "A hotel," I said. "Good to know."   
  
"Yes, well, I'll be there for a while."  
  
"So you said, Lizzie." So you said. What does this mean? Are you leaving Mark? It would appear so, wouldn't it, even to someone way slower on the uptake than I am. Then again, I don't underestimate Elizabeth, her rage, her capacity to hold grudges. A hotel doesn't mean permanence - it only means she needs to show him who's boss. I silently cheer her on, not really knowing the details, just knowing there's a lot at stake. I have no doubt that Lizzie will win this little battle of wills between herself and Mark. She's stronger than him, and better yet, she's worth keeping - he wouldn't be such a fool to let her slip away. Should I care about this? No - but it's interesting, and I wouldn't begrudge Elizabeth the chance to get what she wants, whatever that is. I think I do know what she wants from him - I just wonder if she's really thought it all through. What it will cost her - what she'll have to go through to be happy with him. I see the frustration in her eyes, the impatience, being with a man who can't match her, who lacks her passion, her toughness, her uniqueness. I see all of this, and yet I feel strangely powerless to step in and change anything. She chose this life. I couldn't convince her to do otherwise - it's not my place, and it all feels oddly like something I should leave alone.  
  
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March 28, 2002  
  
Today, something strange happened. Lizzie opened up to me. Well, not really - not on purpose - I just happened to be there. We were getting flooded today. Trauma calls were coming in, and no one could find her. She wasn't answering her pages. So these idiots started tracking me down, expecting me to deal with all of their problems. I did what I could, and then, sick of it, I went looking for Lizzie. She was in the third place I looked, the surgeons' lounge. Great, having a cup of coffee while everything goes to hell down there. I was about to ream her out, but then remembered all the trouble she's had lately with her baby, so I cut her some slack. I made a joke about her hiding out in the lounge, and then I realized that she'd been crying. She told me Mark's tumor is back. It's inoperable.  
  
What could I do? I told her how sorry I was, genuinely. I really did feel awful, and I know that there's nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do, and this is the worst thing in the world for Lizzie and I feel that, I do, I feel her pain. I wanted to tell her that I'd take it away if I could, I'd shield her from all this heartbreak, but I didn't, because I know there's nothing. I'm sorry Lizzie. God, I'm sorry.  
  
So I told her just that, that I'm so sorry this has happened. She got mad suddenly. Not at me, but at Mark, for not telling her earlier that his tumor had resurfaced. "Maybe he was protecting you," I offered. Elizabeth kind of snorted like she didn't believe it. Told me how she doesn't think she can go through this, it's too hard, and she's always been the strong one in her marriage. No arguing with that - I've known it all along. I'm surprised they've made it this far, but they have, and I'm not going to tell her what to do. I didn't say anything, I just let her talk, as she went on about how she and Mark have grown apart, and broken up, and he doesn't expect her to be there for him anyway. I just listened. I'm not going to tell her what to do.  
  
Suddenly she looked at me. "What am I supposed to do?" she says, "Go back home to watch him die?"   
  
"Yes," I say.  
  
"Well, I don't think I can," she insisted.   
  
"Is he your husband?" I said.   
  
"Yes." Elizabeth answered.  
  
"Do you love him?"   
  
"Yes," she said stubbornly, trying to push back her tears. I just nodded. She stared at me, like she expected me to say something else, do something else. There wasn't anything else I could say, and it's not about me, it's about them. A weird feeling.  
  
"Okay," Lizzie said suddenly. I looked up, surprised. "Okay," she said again, standing up and wiping her eyes. "Well, I should go - I'm going to wash my face."  
  
"Okay," I said.  
  
"Okay," she said, turning to leave. Suddenly she turned back. "Robert, thank you."  
  
"I didn't do anything, Lizzie."  
  
"I think you did," she said. She fixed me with this intense gaze, like she was trying to memorize me or something. "I think you did."  
  
I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.  
  
"See you later," she said. She turned to leave again, and this time she did.  
  
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More to come soon.....please read and review. Thanks! 


	8. Chapter 8

May 3, 2002  
  
Funeral today for Mark. It all passed in a blur. I don't even remember who was sitting in the seat next to me, I think it was Jerry. Good turnout for the service. I think Benton was there, I don't really know. I wasn't really paying attention to anyone. It was hard to see Lizzie so broken, and still so beautiful, despite her tears and puffiness. Afterwards everyone got up to express their condolences.   
  
Suddenly it was my turn and we were face to face. I don't really remember what I said. I guess I said I was sorry. I remember thinking I wasn't handling it well. I've always hated attending funerals. I held out my hand to her and she took it, and then she whispered, "Thank you, Robert," and she leaned against me and I felt this electricity. I don't know how long she was there, it felt like hours, but it was probably just a few minutes. Her father came up to collect her, he sort of whispered in her ear that they should get going. He put his arm around her and started to lead her off, and she looked right at me and said goodbye. I said goodbye. I watched her leave the room.  
  
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May 17, 2002  
  
Elizabeth left for England. Is there really anything left to say?  
  
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	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth continued to read the journal entries. She noticed that after Robert's accident, the entries changed. They were shorter sometimes. Some of them were undated.   
  
****************************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
I haven't written in this thing in a while. I've had more important things to do.  
  
What can I say? I don't have much. Just this incredible pain. Other people have car accidents. I had to have this happen. That's my luck for you.  
  
I walked away, yeah, but I am really still alive?   
  
Not if I don't get the function in my arm back.  
  
That's it for now, I need some more Advil. I don't have time for this crap.  
  
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October 8, 2002  
  
Physical therapy today, and an unexpected surprise.  
  
Elizabeth. She's back. Maybe my luck is changing for the better? I don't know why she decided to come back, we didn't have time to get into it. Maybe she missed Chicago, I don't know. Chicago or London - they both have crappy weather, maybe she just chose County over her father's hospital, or maybe she missed her house or something. Who knows.  
  
But seeing that face. Those blue eyes, I'd forgotten how beautiful they were. Her red hair in that loose cascade of curls. Her smile, the way it just lit up the whole room and made it better.  
  
She actually seemed glad to see me, too, although I may have been imagining it. She asked me how I was doing, I told her, tried to ask how she was. She didn't answer, just changed the subject, and then she had to go for a consult. It was great to see her, but I couldn't help feeling a little...I don't know. Disappointed? I remembered how vulnerable she'd been when Mark died, how she almost clung to me for support. I guess I liked that, feeling her closeness, despite the circumstances. Seeing her today, I doubted she'd ever need anything from me again. Lizzie. She's tough as nails, she doesn't need anyone, least of all me.  
  
It's been hours, but I can still smell her perfume, still remember the way her hair looked in the light.  
  
Lizzie.  
  
The first good thing in months.  
  
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October 31, 2002  
  
I messed up. I was thinking about that kid, and not wanting him to lose his leg, and then I thought about how my arm might be as good as gone, after Marty's odds. I guess I should have known he'd say something like that, but I was still really shocked. I didn't think the odds were so low, not for me. If I can't do surgery I'm screwed, there's nothing left for me. I might as well cease to exist. It's like I already do cease to exist around County. I couldn't even help much in the ER, let alone operate. It's not like I'm valuable around there.  
  
So, Lizzie came in and tried to cheer me up, in this really lame way, but she was trying, so...I opened up to her. Before I even knew what I was saying, I was telling her about all my fears and doubts, about maybe not being able to do surgery. I guess I choked up a little, and she knelt down in front of me, and she said I was an excellent surgeon, and that I would be again. She even promised me it would happen, and she took my hand in both of hers, and I guess it got to me. She's the closest thing I have to a friend around that place, and I was feeling really lost, so without thinking I reached out and stroked her cheek.   
  
She was upset, I could tell. She jumped up and said she was being paged, and she practically sprinted out of the room. I felt really bad but I didn't want to go after her, that would have just made it worse. God, I mean, after all the shit in the past with Elizabeth, I wasn't even trying anything in the lounge, I really wasn't, and I'm sure she thought I was taking advantage of her, but I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to at all, and it didn't even matter, because she obviously thought I was the biggest heel. I tried to make it up to her later - she had lost her wedding ring, and I was able to get it back for her. She thanked me and I tried to apologize, I told her it was just a weak moment and it wouldn't happen again.   
  
I don't know if she believed me, but she said something about how I would work through this. She was standing there with her daughter in her arms and they both looked so lovely, and I just felt so sad, because obviously Elizabeth doesn't want anything to do with me, that's what she meant by "You'll work through this." Like, "You'll work through this -- alone. Because I don't want any part of it." I couldn't even blame her, because what was I to her? I wasn't her friend or her relative, and I certainly wasn't her boyfriend or her husband. So I didn't blame her for pulling away -- it hurt, but I understood. So, that was it. I told her goodnight, and she said goodnight. I'm really going to try to keep a safe distance. I know I've said that before but I really do mean it. 


	10. Chapter 10

Elizabeth had fallen asleep on the couch, the journal in her lap. She woke up, yawned and stretched her limbs. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  
  
Robert was there.   
  
"Oh," she said uncomfortably, putting her hand to her hair. "Robert. Hi."  
  
"Hi," he said softly. He playfully reached out to the open book in her lap, glanced at it quickly, and then turned it back to Elizabeth. He smiled slightly. "You're a slow reader."  
  
"Well, you have written a book," she said lightly. "Oh, and I do mean, a book. War and Peace style."  
  
"Yeah, there's a lot there," he said, with a half-smile.  
  
Elizabeth ran her hands over her hair again. "Robert, I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For...not being there for you. For making you feel that I wasn't there for you."  
  
"You didn't do anything," he said, shrugging. "You didn't owe me anything."  
  
"I know, but -- I'm sorry. When I read this, you just seem so alone."  
  
"Yeah," he said sadly. "I was. I still am."  
  
She looked at him thoughtfully. She took his hand, held it for a few minutes. They sat in silence.  
  
Suddenly Elizabeth yawned. "I'm so tired," she mused.   
  
Robert looked amused. 'You just woke up."  
  
"I know, but - that was just a short rest, and I have to get up early tomorrow for work, so I should really get to sleep. After my bath," she decided. A long, hot bubble bath appealed to her. Just soaking in the tub with the bubbles and the bath salts until she felt completely relaxed.  
  
"Your baahth," Robert teased her, mimicking the British accent.  
  
"Robert, when are you going to stop making fun of my voice?"  
  
"C'mon, Lizzie, I'm dead. I have to have some fun."  
  
"Okay," she said good-naturedly. "Well, I am going for - my bath - so I suppose I'll see you later?"  
  
"Can I stay?" he said shyly.  
  
"Of course,"  
  
"No, I don't mean stay here for the night," he explained. "I mean, stay while you take your bath." He gazed at her, eyes intense. "Could I watch?"  
  
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I just want to watch you getting ready for your bath." he said. "Please."  
  
She laughed, disbelieving. "You must be kidding."  
  
"No," he said lightly. "C'mon, please?"  
  
"Robert, absolutely not." she said. Then, looking at the disappointed expression on his face, she said "I"m sorry."   
  
He nodded. "Okay."  
  
She went upstairs to the bedroom. She undressed. She went into her bathroom and put on her white terrycloth robe as she turned on the faucets. She ran the water, letting the tub fill with hot water, pouring her bath oils and salts into the water.   
  
The tub was almost full. She hesitated, then went downstairs, clutching the robe around her.  
  
He was still sitting there on the couch, his head down, his eyes lowered to the floor. As she approached, he looked up.   
  
"I'm leaving," he said. He got to his feet. "Sorry."  
  
"Okay, you can come up," she said.   
  
He looked at her, shocked.  
  
"Only for a minute," she said.  
  
"Okay," he said. She nodded and he followed her up the stairs. She opened the bathroom door, which had been closed, and turned off the water. She looked back at him cautiously.  
  
"I don't know about this." she said.   
  
"Just for a minute," he said.   
  
She hesitated, put her arms on the sleeves of the robe, hugging it to her.  
  
"Your bath's getting cold," he said.  
  
"I know," she said.  
  
"I just want to see you for a minute," he said. "You're so lovely."  
  
She thought of the things he had written about her and felt warm, embarrassed.   
  
"Please," he said.  
  
Elizabeth pulled off the robe. She stood there for what seemed to her like a very long moment. Finally she blushed and reached for a hairclip, putting her hair up. She stepped gently into the tub.  
  
"You look like a painting I saw once in a book," he said. "Venus rising from the foam."  
  
Elizabeth blushed under the bubbles, moved some of them around to cover her body. "Thank you."  
  
He smiled. "No, thank you," he said. He turned to leave.  
  
"Wait, you can stay." she said.  
  
He looked at her, surprised. "Really?"  
  
She smiled shyly. "For a few minutes."  
  
He sat down on the floor. "Nice bathroom," he said.  
  
"I've always thought so."   
  
  
  
**Okay, that was a little weird, I know ;) More coming soon!** 


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everyone - It's been a while - but I'm hoping to get a few more chapters out over the next few weeks. That's the goal, anyway. Sorry for the delays.  
  
By the way, I concluded my other story, "Just Visiting," recently. If you didn't get a chance to read it, click on my author name (above) and it will bring you to the link for that story.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up feeling strangely refreshed. She smiled to herself as she remembered the previous night's odd turn of events. It was very uncharacteristic of her to let Robert watch her bathe, given their history. Then again, nothing that had been happening lately seemed characteristic, so she figured she might as well go with the flow.   
  
_I wonder what anyone at the hospital would think if they knew I had my very own ghost_, she thought. _Let alone a bathing buddy._   
  
This made her laugh out loud. _At least I didn't let him into the water with me. He would have enjoyed that, I'm sure.  
_  
She laughed again and stretched. She got up, took her shower, got dressed. She wondered if he was still down there. After her bath was over, he had thanked her, and said good night. She had offered him the use of her guest room, and he said he'd think about it.  
  
Curious, she crept downstairs. The guest room upstairs had been empty, untouched.  
  
She found him asleep on the couch in her living room. Sleeping, his face looked peaceful, innocent.   
  
Unexpectedly Elizabeth felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. "Oh, Robert," she said affectionately to his sleeping form. "You're breaking all the rules. Ghosts aren't supposed to sleep." She had even posted a message on Paranormal Happenings, asking if anyone knew of a ghost to sleep. A few people replied and said that "their" ghosts had never slept, but they supposed anything was possible.  
  
She reached out, and gently stroked his face. To her surprise, he woke up.  
  
"Hey," he said drowsily.  
  
"Hey," she said, and smiled. "I'm - sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"S'okay," he said, and shrugged.   
  
"Did you - sleep well?" she said tentatively.  
  
"Yes, yes I did," he said. "Did you?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "Very well."  
  
"No residual guilt about letting me see you in the bath?"  
  
"No," she said, covering her right cheek with her hand as she felt a blush forming. "Not really. It was fine."  
  
"You looked pretty fine," he said, and winked.  
  
"Okay, okay, Robert." she said, embarrassed. "Let's not make a big deal about this, all right?"  
  
"Hey, I'm just trying to pay you a compliment."  
  
"Well, leave it alone," she said. "I mean, thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed - it- I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."   
  
"Thank you," he said slyly.  
  
"Okay, I have to leave for work," Elizabeth said quickly, standing up.   
  
"Yeah, it is getting pretty late," he said. He started to get up off the couch.  
  
"You can stay if you want," she said, not looking at him.  
  
"Okay," he said, trying to meet her eye. "Just for a little while."  
  
She nodded, looked at him quickly, then away again. "I'll see you later."  
  
"Yeah," he said.

* * *

February 1, 2003  
  
I don't want to panic but I seem to be losing the strength that I had built up in the hand. Doctor won't help me, he has nothing but bullshit to tell me. I also watched a resident fuck up today and contributed to the fuck up without meaning to. I'm turning into a professional fuck up.

* * *

Work just gets better and better. I lost my surgical privileges today, and I tried to talk to Donald about it but no luck. As if that wasn't enough, I had to stand there and watch Weaver get a liasion position at the hospital that I had wanted. Great. She's the County goldengirl and I'm losing everything I had at that hospital.

* * *

It gets worse, now I'm working in hell. Or the ER, whichever way you want to phrase it. I should just walk away, but I can't - maybe driven by some idiotic miraculous wish that I'm still going to wake up from all of this one of these days with my sensory function restored. A thought reinforced, oddly enough, by Elizabeth, who greeted me in the lounge the other day with the news that she thinks all of this is "awful" but she's sure it's "only temporary." I reluctantly agreed - what else could I do? If I give in to the fear that this is really all I have, forever and ever, I'll just cry or go insane or do something unimaginable. I have to believe that things are going to change eventually. 

Also, Elizabeth asked if there was anything she could do to help me. She's a good person, I realize that - I've always realized that. It's nice that she cares (?) a little bit - of course, there is nothing she can do to help, nothing anyone can do, apparently.

* * *

April 2003  
  
Well, as usual, I haven't written in this thing for a while. I've had a lot on my mind, and maybe I might as well commit some of it to paper.  
  
I've been thinking more and more about the inevitable.   
  
Seeing that necrotic ulcer was sort of an unfortunate wakeup call. The alarm that no one wants.  
  
How I got it, I don't even know. Maybe from the time I pinned it in the gurney and didn't even realize it. Getting punched out in that bar didn't help. The thing is, I woke up one day with this green spot, and it just got worse and worse, like a cancer. I've looked at it, with sadness, maybe the way that cancer patients realize that that lump in their breast or that spot in their lung is a signal that something is really, really wrong.  
  
I'll try to save it, I'll get the treatments, but the truth is just there, lying deep inside. I know it's got to come out, however much I don't want it to, however much it symbolizes the end of the road, the end of the dream, my life, my career, all going up in smoke.  
  
I had heard of doom before this year, I'd seen it in terminal patients, and other unlucky people of all sorts. I knew there was such a thing as being doomed - I just never thought it could happen to me.

* * *

The wakeup call has come again, in the form of a third-degree burn. This time, I turned off the alarm. 

I will do it.  
  
Hard as it is, the harder part would be trying to keep hope, getting skin grafts, going for pulse monitoring every day, knowing that doomsday would come anyway. Might as well say goodbye to something that's already gone.  
  
She tried to help, and I do appreciate it. Maybe she'll be there for me, in the end. I'll ask her, if I feel like I really, really need her. Maybe I'll be able to do it alone.

* * *

More soon. I'm still drafting the next chapter, so it will be coming momentarily...  
  
Justine 


	12. Chapter 12

I've been home for more than a month. No one has come to see me in all that time.  
  
Do I want them to come? No. So it's all the better. I've gotten a flood of mail though. Cards, flowers, plants, from people at the hospital. They must think I'm opening up a nursery.  
  
I suppose this is what it would be like to be alive after your own funeral.   
  
A part of me did die, I suppose. I don't want to think about it right now.  
  
The first two weeks were easier. I took sleeping pills, fell asleep most of the day on the couch in front of the television. During my non-groggy moments I watched a couple of soap operas, I am ashamed to say. _General Hospital_ actually isn't half-bad, when you're an invalid with nothing else to do. Some of the girls on that show are pretty cute. There's even a young one named Elizabeth...  
  
She called me. There was a message on my machine, from the first week, although I didn't check the machine until the third week. That's when I started getting antsy and bored. Could it be I almost wanted to go back...to work? I guess I was, am, getting that desperate. I mean, there's nothing else to do.  
  
Getting back to Elizabeth - like I said, she left me a message. She said she was calling to see how I was, and if I needed anything. _My arm back._ She left her phone number, which of course I already had. I didn't call her. She called again, later that week, left another message that she was going out of town to visit her family, and she wanted to know if she could bring anything by before she left. I'm glad I didn't get that message right away, you know? I might have told her yes, come by. Drop everything and come by, you don't have to bring anything, just you, you're all I need.   
  
God, thank God I didn't. That's all I need, to drag Lizzie into this, this -- what? This life, which really isn't a life, it's just my existence. Which has become a very isolated one.   
  
I've thought of calling my family, but what's the point? They've never been there for me, and I've never told them anything, not even after my accident. When my mother called, a couple of months after my arm was reattached, I told her I'd broken my arm and wouldn't be able to make it to Thanksgiving. They were getting together, she and my two brothers and their families, in Wisconsin, where my brother Tom and his wife live. Told her I'd been in an auto accident, and I was okay but I wasn't up to traveling anywhere, I was still recovering.   
  
Still recovering. Once again, I'm still recovering. If anyone wants to come here, I'll tell them something to keep them away. Hell, they couldn't want to come that badly, or they'd have found a way. It's not that hard, is it? If you really want to see someone, it's not. It's a lot easier to avoid them.

* * *

August 10, 2003   
  
Something that's occurred to me as I've been lying here night after night, when I'm not at the hospital. I went back to work a while ago.  
  
It's been a long time since I got laid. I mean, a long time.  
  
This is not the first time this thought has occurred to me, but somehow, I pushed it off easily before. Last year, I was concentrating on recovery (a word that's becoming painful to say, to write), convinced I'd be getting stronger, better, back to normal. Don't get me wrong, there were times when I wanted some female companionship, where I wanted so badly to call Nikki, or Janine, or any of the endless girls from my past. Well, not endless, but there were a few.   
  
I even thought about calling Carolyn, futile of course since we broke up in 2001. It was a mutual breakup. We liked each other, but we weren't in love. She didn't love me, and she knew I was still in love with Lizzie. We parted ways amicably. I read in the paper last spring that she had gotten engaged to a cardiologist from Mercy Hospital. She always did like doctors.  
  
So, no Carolyn. No one to call. Last year there were women to call, women I could have looked up in my faded little black book, and one or two of them might have even come over if they didn't have anything better to do. I always knew how to give the ladies a good time, if you know what I mean. That Rocket nickname wasn't for nothing. Yet I didn't call anyone last year, maybe out of frustration, maybe out of fear, for what's happened to me now.   
  
I look down at the loose material on the left side of my flannel shirt, the way it just hangs there limply.   
  
How could I invite a woman to come over, to see what I don't even want to see?  
  
I feel like half a man, inadequate.  
  
I was on the train the other day -- I've been taking the El a lot more than I used to, it's easier than driving. I was in one of the less crowded cars and I got a seat. There was this woman sitting across from me, she was blonde and very pretty. She reminded me a little bit of Carolyn, actually. I've always been into blondes. Well, usually.  
  
Anyway, so I looked over at her, and she smiled. I smiled back and then I glanced down. It's been cold out lately, for fall. I was wearing a black winter coat. With a long coat like that, and the newspaper over my lap, she probably wouldn't have been able to tell that I was missing an arm. For a minute I felt okay, almost normal, but then it passed. What difference did it make if I pretended everything was okay? It wouldn't change anything.  
  
I looked up once again, just to see if she was still there. She smiled again. I smiled, looked down at the newspaper. Safer there.  
  
I didn't look up again until I got to my stop. By then she was gone. I guess she had gotten off at an earlier stop. I felt sad, but also relieved.  
  
I'm supposed to pick up a prosthetic arm in another week. They say they had to allow time for the stump to heal. Will it make much difference, though? I don't know how real it will really look, close-up, and eventually I'll have to take it off. I just can't imagine having some woman over my house when I take it off. She'd be repulsed, I'm sure. Wondering what she was doing there.  
  
So, this is what I'm thinking about tonight. Priorities, right? I could be thinking about all the limitations I have now, permanently (again, maybe the myoelectric arm will help, but I'm not expecting much). The challenges of eating steak. No longer being able to go to karate, or play a game of golf. Opening a bottle of wine (which I could really use right now). Should I go on? The list is fucking endless. But no, instead of focusing on all that, I'm thinking about how long it's been since I've had some action in the ol' bedroom. Yeah well. The mind goes where the mind goes.  
  
I'm going to bed now. Alone. Goes without saying, I guess...

* * *

September 15, 2003  
  
Could this day have sucked more?   
  
I went to see the prosthetist, actually thinking that she'd done her job right and would have the myoelectric arm ready for me. No. She gives me this piece of crap hook instead, 'cause apparently that's all the insurance company thinks I'm worth. I let her know I wasn't happy about it, to put it mildly. She claims I need to get the hospital to vouch for me that I need something better, and in the meantime she'll see what she can do, yeah yeah yeah right. Basically, it all just means that Weaver screwed me over (easier to blame it on her) and I have to either 1) get back in her good graces somehow (ha) or 2) piss her off enough that she'll help me out just to get me away from her. Guess which option I chose.  
  
So, look, there were a ton of things that went wrong today, and I don't have the energy to go into detail about them all. Weaver, that little shit of a resident, Coop, nurses giving me crap, a kid patient looking at me like I'm a freak, etc. The list goes on and on. Then at the end of the day, I saw Elizabeth. I was getting ready to sign out for the night and there she was. She looked great, as always. She was wearing this blue sleeveless shirt. I remember looking at her arms and hoping she wouldn't notice mine, my lack of, too much.  
  
So, we did the small talk thing for a minute. I felt her eyes on me as I was using the computer, and I knew she must be looking at the hook, wondering why I didn't have something better to use. I hoped she didn't think, you know, that I looked like too much of a freak. I did feel awkward, but I don't know, for a moment I was almost happy, because it was Lizzie. You know, the whole day had just sucked but there she was, and her being there made it a little better. I just wanted to bask in her light for a minute, and feel close to her beauty, her gracefulness. I don't know. I wasn't going to pretend that I could have her, not like I used to. I just wanted to be near her. For a minute I really felt okay.   
  
Then Dorsett came by, and, you know, it all changed. I just felt awkward again except maybe a hundred times more than I did before. A guy who looks like that -- even in my best of days, I would have felt inferior standing next to him. So I moved. I was standing a few feet back, so I could kind of hear their conversation. Something about him wanting to take her to coffee (yeah, right) and that she owed him one. She said she would go with him but she only had an hour. Okay, whatever. So they went off. I mean, she said good night to me, which was nice, but in a way I almost wished she hadn't. I thought she had forgotten I was even there. Watching them, I think I had almost forgotten I was even there.  
  
The thing is, I know there's nothing between me and Lizzie - nothing on her end, anyway - I know that, I've known it for a while. Yet when I saw her with Dorsett, it was just so painful, like nothing I've known before. I just watched their retreating backs and somehow I knew, I knew that things were going to get progressively worse for me. Which is funny because I thought things couldn't get any worse. Just goes to show. It never ends, you know? There's always more -- more pain, more misery, more sorrow. More loneliness. I can't get my fill. It comes and it comes and it comes again. It's my drug.  
  
I did the only thing I could think to do. I threw the hook through the glass of a trauma room. I got the tiniest bit of satisfaction, watching it sail through that wall, glass shattering everywhere, causing damage. Damage and destruction are what I have left, and they're all I have.


	13. Chapter 13

October 22, 2003  
  
I got the myolectric arm recently. It's okay, it helps a little, as far as making certain tasks more convenient. It has a lot of limitations though. For one thing, it can't hold much weight. About two pounds, to be exact.   
  
I saw this patient today who was in his eighties. He was very feeble and could barely even move his limbs. I started thinking, what if that happened to me someday, only my right arm fails and that's all I have? Of course, I have the myoelectric one, but what if something happened and I couldn't control it? I know I shouldn't dwell but I kept thinking, so this is what I have to look forward to…maybe I don't even want to live a long life anymore. Maybe it's better to just die early. I didn't think my life would be like this, I thought I'd be married and have a bunch of kids like everyone else. I feel so old, I look in the mirror and all I see is old. I see all that gray in my beard and I don't like it but I don't even have the energy to shave it off. I'm old and useless, and all the pretty people are passing me by, with their smug faces and lively gaits. I used to have something once, some kind of spark that kept me going, but now it's gone. I was a great surgeon but it's in the past. There's no room for me anymore, they should just put me out to pasture. Oh hell, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Why do I write in this thing?  
  
I had a prescription filled for some sleeping pills. Trazodone. It's not just for sleeping, sometimes I just want to know that I have a medication at home. Trazodone's an anti-depressant. I asked Marty for a prescription and he gave it to me without batting an eye. Something strong. I have Percodan at home too, left over from when I fractured my ankle a few months ago. Just in case, you know, the pain got to be too much. I haven't been taking them, I just like knowing that they're there.

* * *

November 2, 2003  
  
I still think about calling my family sometimes, but I don't. My mother left a message on the answering machine the other day, while I was at work. Said they're all getting together for Thanksgiving later this month, and they'd love to have me join them, if I'm not too busy. How easy it is for me to write back, or call, and say, Yes, I'm too busy, I have surgeries scheduled, I'm sorry but I just can't get away. She'll say, I understand Robert, they need you at the hospital. That will be the end of it. I don't even remember when I last saw my brothers, it's been a while. My brother Joe and his wife bought a house in Indiana, apparently. So everyone's in Wisconsin or Indiana. So close and yet so far. I wouldn't mind seeing my niece Kyla, actually. She e-mails me every once in a while. Right now she's doing some theater program abroad for teens. She's living in Paris. I used to travel to Paris, to London, to Rome, all over. Maybe one day I'll get the urge to go away again. Lord knows there's nothing keeping me here.  
  
I see Elizabeth in the hallways sometimes, on her way to consults. We don't talk much, sometimes she'll ask me about a patient that one of the residents bumped her way. Other times she just passes by and gives me this sympathetic smile, this sort of "Poor you" smile. I think she doesn't want to talk about her surgeries, maybe she think she'd been rubbing it in, reminding me of what I used to do. I avoid her mostly. I haven't seen her with Dorsett lately. Probably they're just keeping it on the sly.  
  
I thought of calling her the other night, actually. It was just a crazy impulse and I held back, good thing too as I'm sure I would have made a fool out of myself. I guess I just had the urge to talk to somebody and she came to mind. I don't have anyone to talk to anymore. All of my golf buddies are gone, it's not like I'm going to call them up and ask if I can watch them play, or try to give it a whirl with my artificial arm.

* * *

November 20, 2003  
  
The suicide fantasies are stronger lately, I think about finally taking all the pills, and falling off to sleep for good. I even think about who might find me. For some reason, I picture a policeman and a nurse, and then Elizabeth's there. I picture her finding me and how she might bend gently over my lifeless body, like she must have done once with her husband.  
  
God, I'm a selfish fool. Elizabeth loved Mark. She doesn't love me. Why would she care if I died?  
  
I put the pills away. They're on a high shelf in the medicine cabinet, behind some aspirin and cough medicine. I could overdose on aspirin if I wanted, but I know that I wont do that. If it'll be anything, it'll be these prescription pills. I know how potent they are, and how swiftly they'd go down, like a bittersweet elixir, ending all my misery. I like knowing that they're there, waiting for me, any time I want them.  
  
I don't want to die, I just want to really live. I'm so lonely….


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks very much to all of you that read and reviewed the last couple of chapters. I'm really happy that you're still enjoying the story.

* * *

Elizabeth was saddened by the journal entries. Reading about all these painful events that Robert had been through, and getting such a deep glimpse into his perspective, had really gotten to her. She felt depressed. The worst thing was that Robert hadn't made an appearance since the last time she had seen him. She found herself missing him, wanting his presence.  
  
"Robert," she surprised herself by saying out loud. "Are you there?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"If you're around, please come back." There was silence. "Because I know you're still around -- somewhere."  
  
She waited through several minutes of silence, desperately hoping that he's show up. "Robert?" He didn't appear. For whatever reason, he wasn't coming around right now. She supposed all she could do was wait.

* * *

She was out on a date.  
  
She had reluctantly agreed to go to dinner with a radiologist from the hospital. Dr. Eric Richardson. He'd started working at County just recently. He was close to her age, or so she supposed: late thirties or maybe very early forties. Tall, very thin, blonde hair, somewhat receding, kindly blue eyes. He looked a bit like David Hyde Pierce. Elizabeth supposed he was attractive, although she really wasn't looking for any kind of special companionship right now. Mostly, she was tired. She'd been staying up too late, reading Robert's journal entries and she was edgy and easily distracted. When Eric Richardson invited her out, she didn't feel like making the effort to say no, knowing she'd have to do it correctly, just politely enough and then suggesting another time to avoid any awkwardness. Better to get out of the way, she wearily decided.  
  
So there they were. He was very nice -- pleasant, friendly -- she had no problem with him personally. Yet she kept drifting off into her own thoughts in the middle of the conversation.  
  
"...So I'd imagine it must have been difficult," he said.  
  
Elizabeth looked up, caught off guard. "Sorry?" she said, having missed the first part of his sentence.  
  
"Infiltrating the old boys club at the hospital," he explained. "I can't imagine it's much easier at County than it was in England."  
  
"Oh, that," she said. "Yes, well, it's never easy - they go off on their golf games or whatever and I just do my work. Can't get involved in all the politicking."  
  
He smiled sympathetically. "I've never been very good at golf," he said.  
  
"I've never tried it," she admitted.  
  
"Well, you might be quite good at it," he said encouragingly. "Still, I think you have the right idea -- staying detached, I mean."  
  
"Right, well there's only so many hours I can spend with people there, you know," she said.  
  
"Oh, come on, they can't be all bad," he said, smiling.  
  
"No, of course not, I didn't mean that," she said, smiling back. "I just meant -- well, you know."  
  
"Sure," he said. "Especially working in surgery, you must work a lot of overtime as it is."  
  
"That I do," she said. "As Associate Chief of Surgery, I can't avoid it, unfortunately. Especially since--" she broke off.  
  
"Sorry, since what?"  
  
"Since -- well, they never filled the Chief of Surgery position after Dr. Romano vacated it, and -- it's been very busy there, ever since."  
  
"Oh, right, Dr. Romano," Dr. Richardson said. "I heard about his situation, of course. I never did get to meet him, you know. I started at County about two months ago, and our paths just never crossed."  
  
Elizabeth nodded, feeling tense.  
  
"And then of course, well, he -- tragic how he died," Dr. Richardson mused. He looked over at Elizabeth, noticed her eyes filling up. "I'm sorry, were you close?"  
  
"He was my friend," she said sadly.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Dr. Richardson said. "I had no idea."  
  
"I wasn't such a good friend to him, though," Elizabeth said quietly, almost to herself. She heard Robert's voice in her head, saying, "You didn't owe me anything." Yet she couldn't stop the feelings of guilt and sadness from flooding.Those awkward moments in the hallways after his operation where she could have said something, done something, invited him to lunch. The loneliness in his eyes when he saw her with Dorsett. Worst of all, her scornful attitude toward him on his very last day at the hospital. That wealthy patient – Robert's remark about him being in good hands with Dr. Corday. "You're in good hands with Dr. Corday, I envy you." She'd rolled her eyes in exasperation, thinking, _Oh, Robert._  
  
Those were the things she could not forget.  
  
"Elizabeth, are you all right?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was asking you about the Chief position."  
  
"Oh, of course."  
  
"So do you think they will--"  
  
"Eric, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not feeling well. I need to go home."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"Yes, right now," she said, getting to her feet. "I do apologize."  
  
"Okay," he said. "Can I give you a ride?"  
  
"I'm going to take a cab."

* * *

Lying in her bed that night, she tried to summon him again.  
  
"Robert?"  
  
There was only silence.  
  
"If you can hear me, I really need to talk to you." She waited in the darkness for him to appear to her, but he didn't. "I want to talk to you. Some things in your journal -- we really need to talk." Again she waited. "Robert, please."  
  
"Okay," she said, finally, her voice full of fatigue and disappointment. "I can't force you, I guess. I hope I'll see you soon." 


	15. Chapter 15

"Elizabeth, you're staring off into space."  
  
She turned around, startled. Susan Lewis was smiling at her, looking concerned. "You okay?" Susan said lightly.  
  
"Yes, sure," Elizabeth said. "I was just thinking."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Susan, do you ever think about...Dr. Romano?"  
  
"Well, sure, I think about him sometimes. He was hard to forget."  
  
"I think about him too," Elizabeth said tentatively. There was a pause. "So, what do you think?"  
  
"About Romano?" Susan said. Elizabeth nodded. "Oh, geez Elizabeth, I mean who really knew what to think with Robert Romano. I guess you knew him better than anyone around here, didn't you?"  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"Wonder what he's doing right now," Susan said thoughtfully. Elizabeth stared at her. "Well, you know, sometimes I think the dead are just dead, but then other times, I wonder."  
  
"So you think maybe they're wandering around somewhere, trying to figure out what went wrong?"  
  
"Well, if that's the case with Romano, he's got a lot to think about," Susan said. "He did a lot of things wrong."  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth said. After a moment, she added, "He also got some things right."  
  
"Well, sure," Susan said dubiously. "I'm sure he did."  
  
"He was a good man," Elizabeth said. She felt her voice trembling a little, and she tried to stay calm. "In a lot of ways he was good." She put her hands to her face, and started to cry.  
  
"Oh, look, Elizabeth," Susan said, flustered, but with sympathy. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around Elizabeth, who continued to cry. "Of course he was. It's good that you miss him, he would have appreciated that."  
  
"It's not enough," Elizabeth sobbed. "He's dead."  
  
"Nothing's ever enough," Susan said awkwardly.  
  
"But I never got to let him know how I feel," Elizabeth said, wiping a tear off her face. "Maybe I still can."  
  
"What?" Susan said. "What do you mean, Elizabeth?"  
  
"I --" Elizabeth paused. "I just, I wish that we could have some closure."  
  
"That would have been nice," Susan said, checking her watch. "But who knows, maybe he did know how you felt, deep down. Listen, I have to go, I'm sorry. We'll talk later, okay?"  
  
Elizabeth nodded.  
  
"You take care, okay?" Susan said, firmly. She smiled at Elizabeth.  
  
"I will," Elizabeth said. "Thank you."  
  
Susan nodded and walked briskly down the hall, almost bumping into Kerry Weaver.  
  
"Oops. Sorry, Kerry," Susan said, stepping back to avoid Kerry's folders and coffee cup.  
  
"Susan," Kerry said, in greeting. "What's wrong with Elizabeth?"  
  
Susan turned her head to see what Kerry saw - Elizabeth, sitting down on a bench near the admit bench, blowing her nose.  
  
"Well--" Susan said.  
  
"She looks like she's been crying."  
  
Susan sighed. "Kerry, she's having a hard time of it lately. I don't know, maybe Romano dying triggered something in her, reminded her of Mark or something--she'll be okay. Just give her some time."  
  
"All the same," Kerry said. "I think I'll refer her to one of the hospital's grief counselors. It might help." 


	16. Chapter 16

I'm finally back – thank you all for the reviews and feedback! I'm really happy that people are still reading this story and I apologize for the delay.

The note in her mailbox had been bothering her all day.

All because she had opened up, barely, for one minute, to Kerry Weaver.

She'd been sitting in the doctor's lounge, sipping a cup of coffee. She preferred tea, but the coffee was to energize her, keep her awake. She sipped quietly, staring into space.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up. Kerry was staring at her. "Hello," Elizabeth said.

"How are you?" Kerry said.

"I'm fine," Elizabeth said quietly. "How are you?"

Kerry looked at her intently. "You don't look fine," she said.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm fine," she repeated.

Kerry continued to stare at her.

"I'm just a little sad," Elizabeth said very quietly.

"Why?" Kerry said, also in a quiet tone.

Elizabeth leaned back wearily, touched her hair, didn't answer.

"Is it about Mark?" Kerry said.

Elizabeth stared at her blankly. "Mark?"

"Is it about...Robert?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Kerry, please. I can't talk about this right now, all right? I really am...okay. I will be."

"Okay," Kerry said hesitantly. To Elizabeth's surprise, Kerry reached out, put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Take care."

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth said.

When she got to her mailbox the next day, there was a letter inside. She opened it curiously, and started to read.

"Dear Elizabeth,

I know that this has been a stressful time for you. With that in mind, I'd like to suggest that you speak with Dr. Robinson, one of our in-house grief counselors. I have taken the liberty of scheduling your first appointment, for Thursday evening at 6:00 p.m. Please work with Dr. Robinson to choose a time for your subsequent appointments. Once a week should work out quite well.

Thanks for agreeing to this. I know this will help you personally, and I believe it will help you professionally as well. I'm sure you feel as I do that we can best help our patients when we ourselves are in the best of health, mentally as well as physically. These visits with Dr. Robinson will be quite beneficial to you, and I look forward to hearing about how things are going.

Best regards,

Kerry Weaver."

At the bottom of the letter, Kerry had signed her name, and written "Chief of Staff" underneath her signature. She had also included some information about Dr. Robinson's office location.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks get hot as she read the letter. She could barely control her rage. How dare Kerry make an appointment for her with a therapist? It would be one thing if she suggested it to Elizabeth, as a possible option, but there was no question that this was mandatory. "Thanks for agreeing to this?" Elizabeth repeated to herself. "How dare she."

Elizabeth walked into Dr. Robinson's office. "Hello?" she called out tentatively.

An attractive woman maybe a few years older than Elizabeth looked up from her desk. "Hello," she said warmly, extending her hand. "You must be Elizabeth."

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth said carefully, as she shook the other woman's hand.

"I'm Paula Robinson," the woman said. "Please, have a seat."

Elizabeth looked around the room. There were two lounge chairs, and a sofa.

"Anywhere you like," Dr. Robinson said.

Elizabeth walked over to the sofa tentatively, and sat down. "I suppose I'm expected to lie down?"

Dr. Robinson smiled. "If you like." Elizabeth stayed seated. "I know your schedule must be quite busy, but I appreciate your taking the time to come in."

"Well, Dr. Weaver was the one–"Elizabeth started. She tried again. "She seemed to think it was – necessary."

Dr. Robinson smiled. "How are you doing, these days?"

"Fine," Elizabeth said.

"Dr. Weaver said you mentioned feeling sad the other day."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Don't we all, sometimes?"

"Yes," said Dr. Robinson, "but when it gets in the way of your work, of your ability to function, that's when you have to take steps."

"Look," Elizabeth said, "Just because Kerry Weaver forced me to come to therapy doesn't mean that I don't have the ability–"

"Elizabeth, listen," Dr. Robinson said. "This isn't about Kerry Weaver."

"Isn't it?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Not totally," Dr. Robinson said, and smiled. "Obviously, she is concerned about you, and others on staff, when there's a problem. Once it's been called to my attention, though, my goal is to help you. How can coming here and talking about things make _you_ feel better. Because, Elizabeth, really, it's not just what Kerry says. You have to admit it to you, if you don't feel well enough to go on, if you feel like you need a little extra guidance, some support."

Elizabeth sighed. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Whatever you want."

"I've been a bit tired lately, that's all. I suppose I haven't been sleeping enough...that could make me more emotional."

"Of course."

"Although," Elizabeth said, hesitating. Dr. Robinson looked at her. "Well, the thing is, I _hadn't_ been sleeping well. But the past few days, I slept really well."

"Yes?" Dr. Robinson said. "Anything you can attribute it to, then?"

"Well," Elizabeth said, "I can't explain it. I've been...melancholy...but then this week I felt a bit more peaceful. I went to bed, and I had these weird dreams."

"Yes?"

"Yes," she said. "I don't really recall them - just that I felt like someone was watching over me while I slept. I felt comforted."

"I see."

Elizabeth laughed a little.

"What's funny?" Dr. Robinson said, smiling.

"Oh, it's just something."

"Tell me."

"You'd think I was nutty if I did."

"You're not really giving me a chance to judge though, are you."

"Well, I know what everyone else in this hospital would say," Elizabeth mused. "They've already made it pretty clear."

"What is this about, Elizabeth?" Dr. Robinson said curiously. "Robert Romano?"

Elizabeth looked at her in shock.

"Kerry Weaver," Dr. Robinson flipped through a pad of notes as she talked, "she thought you had been saddened by his death. She mentioned that another colleague thought you might have associated him with your husband."

"Associated Robert with Mark?" Elizabeth said. "Who said that? Why would they even think that?"

"I don't know," Dr. Robinson said. "Because they both died, I suppose."

Elizabeth sighed. "Aren't you allowed to _miss_ someone," she said, "without it being a federal case?"

"Of course," Dr. Robinson said. "So you were close to Dr. Romano?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.

"You're not sure?"

"I haven't spoken to him lately," Elizabeth said. Dr. Robinson looked surprised. "I mean, I hadn't spoken to him much, during the weeks before he died." Elizabeth covered. "I suppose I felt guilty."

"Uh huh,"

"and, well, I sympathized with him, in a way," Elizabeth went on, "I cared. As much as you can care for someone you hardly know."

"I see."

"People have so many secrets," Elizabeth said. She shook her head. "They just keep it all hidden."

"Who does that, Elizabeth?" Dr. Robinson said. "Dr. Romano did that?"

"He –kept it all inside," she said. "A lot of it. If only I'd known–"she broke off, started again. "You could have helped _him," _Elizabeth said. "He really needed someone to talk to. Instead of just writing it all down—"

Dr. Robinson stared at her.

"He mentioned something once about a journal," Elizabeth said lamely. "I suppose I wasn't really listening at the time. Later, I thought more about it."

"So you think he wrote a lot in this journal?"

"I think he must have done so," Elizabeth said. "He was very private, and he had a lot of pain."

"Like you," Dr. Robinson said. Elizabeth stared at her. "Haven't you had a lot of pain, in your life? Haven't you tried to keep it to yourself?"

"Well," Elizabeth said.

"Elizabeth, I think I understand what some of this is about," Dr. Robinson said. "You feel badly that Dr. Romano was so alone at the end of his life. Could it be though that you also need someone to confide in?"

"I suppose so," Elizabeth said.

"What about Dr. Romano?" Dr. Robinson said. "I'll get back to him, since you mentioned something. You considered him a friend?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why of course?" Dr. Robinson questioned. "From what you've said, and what Kerry Weaver has said, I gather he didn't have a lot of friends around the hospital."

"So I'm not allowed to be his friend then?" Elizabeth challenged.

"No, I didn't say that, I'm just wondering what the connection was. Can you go into more detail about it, about how you two got along?"

"No, I really can't, not tonight," Elizabeth said hastily. "I'm sorry, but it's really getting late, and I'm not – I'm not used to this. It feel strange to me, and uncomfortable."

"Well, we can stop here for this evening," Dr. Robinson said. "Why don't we make another appointment?"

"Must we?" Elizabeth said.

"Yes," Dr. Robinson said, smiling. "How is Tuesday for you?"

At home, she kicked off her shoes, pulled on a pair of sweat pants, and collapsed onto the couch, much more comfortably than she had let herself get on Dr. Robinson's couch. She'd already seen to Ella, and she was grateful that her nanny was so good about making sure Ella had her dinner before Elizabeth got home. Elizabeth herself had barely eaten today, but she wasn't hungry. All she wanted now was to relax and watch television. She turned on the set and started flipping around, selecting different channels. Finally she settled on a movie, a romantic comedy that she'd seen a few times before. She sank back against the couch pillows, relaxed and contented. She was so glad to be home. She even laughed at a line of dialogue in the movie.

"_Chick flick."_

She gasped out loud and turned to her right. He was sitting next to her on the couch. "Robert!" she said happily. Impulsively she hugged him.

"Yeah, it's me," he said shyly.

"Where have you been?" she said.

"Around," he said. "I had to come back, now that you've forgotten all about me."

"I haven't forgotten," she said. "Not at all. I was just watching a movie."

"Lizzie, I'm just kidding," he said. Then, shyly, "Miss me?"

"You know I did," she said. "I was calling and calling for you, and you never came,"

"Oh," he said, putting his left arm around her shoulders. "It's nice to be missed."

She let herself rest her head on his shoulder, leaning against him comfortably. "You shouldn't have worried me like that."

"Well, you knew I was dead," he reminded her. "How worried could you be?"

"Stop kidding around," she said.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "So, how was your day?"

"Awful," she said. "I had to go to a shrink today."

"I know," he said. "Sorry about that."

"You weren't there, were you?"

"No, I kind of darted in and darted out," he said. "I figured it was private."

"Kind of like writing in a journal," she said. He hung his head. "You wanted me to read it."

"I know," he said. "But then I just – I don't know. I started thinking about some of the things I'd written there, and I felt regret. Like maybe I shouldn't have subjected you to that."

"I'm glad you let me read it," she said sincerely. "But it was a lot to take in."

"I know," he said softly.

"I want to talk about it," she said.

"I know you do," he said. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"Why tomorrow?"

"Because...I want to watch this movie."

"Liar," she said affectionately.

"I'm not lying," he said defensively. "Meg Ryan is hot. Not that she'd really fall for a schmuck like Tom Hanks."

"Oh, so I suppose you're more appealing than Tom Hanks?" she teased him.

"I know I am."

"You keep telling yourself that," she joked.

"See, now you're being mean to me," he pouted.

"I'm just happy, Robert," she said. "I'm happy to see you again. I was getting worried I wouldn't see you again."

"Well, you haven't lost me yet," he murmured.

"Tomorrow night, we'll talk more," she said. "I'll be your therapist, if you want me to."

"Okay," he said.

Leaning against him, she fell contentedly to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

She woke up feeling refreshed. She was stretched out across the couch. How had she gotten that way? She could have sworn she'd fallen asleep sitting down, Robert sitting right next to her.

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. _Who knows, _she thought. She got up and got on with her day. She had a day off today, thank goodness. She really needed it. She took Ella to the park, spent the day outside with her.

She came back in early evening, made dinner for her and Ella, listened to some music, read a magazine and part of a novel. She turned the television on, started flipping through channels.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said, only slightly surprised this time to find him there. "Sit down, why don't you."

He sat next to her, smiled a little.

"You must be determined to interrupt my television viewing," she said lightly. "There's no Meg Ryan movies on tonight, I'm afraid."

"Pity."

"We could watch something else," she said, "Or we could just talk."

"Whatever you like."

"Okay," she said. "Well, I did have some questions for you, that I'd like to ask." He was quiet. "Robert?"

"I'm here," he said.

"So you are," she said, and smiled. He didn't smile back. "Robert, what is it? Is this too hard for you?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's all hard. It never gets any easier, does it?"  
  
"I don't know," she said softly.  
  
"I know you don't," he said. "And I certainly don't want to burden you, Elizabeth." he paused. "I know it might seem like I do, but that wasn't my intention."  
  
"Robert, I know that," she said.  
  
"I just wanted – when I first came here, I wanted to talk to you, and I didn't know how to get started, so I thought the journal would be a good way for you to understand me better. You seemed to want that too, so I thought it was all right. Later, it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't have let you read some of that stuff, it was way too much to lay on you. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," she said. "I'm glad I read it, but I do have some questions."  
  
He nodded. "All right," he said.  
  
"The pills," she said quietly. "Would you really have gone through with it?"  
  
He looked down for a moment, and then looked back at her. "I don't know," he said. "I like to think that I wouldn't have. I never thought I was that weak, but I really don't know. You have to understand, Elizabeth, I didn't feel like a doctor anymore. Hell, most of the time, I didn't even feel like a person anymore. I just felt like I was going insane, from all the pain and the loneliness. I don't like to admit that to anyone, but you know about it now. You read it. I can't hide it from you anymore, I guess."  
  
"Robert, did you ever think of getting some help?" she said gently. "Seeking out a therapist?"  
  
"You didn't think it was worth it, for you," he said. "I didn't think I needed that either. I thought I  
should figure it out for myself, or—"  
  
"Or what?"  
  
"Or nothing." he said.  
  
"Robert, it's okay to ask for help," she said. "I'm realizing that now. Also, why didn't you ever call your family? I know you wanted to."  
  
He shook his head. "I couldn't." he said. "We didn't have that kind of a relationship. They had a picture of me in their heads, the successful surgeon. I wanted to leave them with that picture. They lived  
far away, my brothers had wives and families of their own. I didn't want to burden them."  
  
"But they're your family," she said, "You needed someone."  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"And what about me?" she said. "What if I had come over to visit after you-- after you had the amputation. Would that have helped?"  
  
"I don't know," he said.  
  
"I had to go out of town, a few weeks after you were still recuperating at home."  
  
I know, I remember," he said, sounding fatigued. "You left a message."  
  
"I thought about coming by before I left, several times," she admitted. "Just stopping by to see you without  
calling first."  
  
He looked surprised. "You did?"  
"Yes," she said. "I went back and forth on it. I thought maybe you were resting a lot and wouldn't want  
to be disturbed. I didn't know if you'd answer the door if I just stopped by unannounced." She paused. "Would you have?"  
  
"Yeah, of course."  
  
"Well, I really wish I had," she said. She reached over and took his hand. "I wish I had done more for you. If I could do it over, I would."  
  
"Thanks," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry about Dr. Dorsett," she said. "I mean, I'm sorry for the pain it caused you. You must know that I wasn't intending that."  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said.  
  
"He was a mistake in more ways than one," she said. "He showed up at a time when I wasn't expecting  
anything, and he seemed harmless enough. I regret now that I leapt into anything with him."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" he said, and smiled despite himself. "What happened?"  
  
"He was married," she said, feeling embarrassed. "He was married and I had no idea."  
  
"Huh."  
  
"You didn't know, did you?" she said.  
  
"No, I didn't really know anything about the guy," Robert said. "I didn't think much of him. He was kind of a show-off. Reminded me of someone else I knew," he said, and winked.  
  
"Someone who was arrogant and made smarmy jokes?"  
  
"Someone who was a much better surgeon than Dorsett ever could have been." Robert said.  
  
"I agree," she said.  
  
"My jokes were better, too," he said.  
  
"Maybe," she said, and smiled. "Anyway, I'm sorry that it happened."  
  
"It's okay, it doesn't matter," he said wearily. "It wouldn't have stopped that helicopter from crashing  
into me,"  
  
"Maybe it would have," she said. He stared at her. "I mean, maybe you wouldn't have been there, outside,  
alone, that day. Maybe you would have been doing something else."  
  
"Maybe," he said cryptically.  
"I'm so sorry," she said.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"What was it like?" she said. "The day you died. There's no journal entries on that, obviously; I don't  
know what you went through there."  
  
"You know," he said.  
  
"I know what happened," she said. "I don't know the details."  
  
"You don't want to know," he said.  
  
"I do," she said.  
  
He sighed. "Lizzie, it doesn't matter."  
  
"Why were you outside?"  
  
"I just had to get away," he said.

More to come......


	18. Chapter 18

Hi everyone...

Yes, another long delay....sorry, sorry! These final chapters are difficult to write, so bear with me. Thanks for all of the thoughtful feedback on the preceding chapters – I really do appreciate it!

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"Why did you have to get away?" she said. "What happened?"

"I couldn't breathe," he said.

"Why?" she said softly.

He stared off into space for a moment. "She didn't know where to go," he said. "That girl, Neela. She didn't know where the heliport was, so I showed her. We went up in the elevator. When we got there, I couldn't get out. I tried, I guess," he said.

Elizabeth watched him, waiting.

"It was too hard," he said, his voice trembling. "It was too hard. The thing loomed too large in front of me. The sound of it, the spinning–it just reminded me, you know, of everything I'd lost. I didn't want to go back there again, be so close to it again. I was afraid.

"So I went down," he said. "I went back down and I got outside as fast as I could. I remember being aware of people walking by, some patients, but that was it. I couldn't concentrate on anything, and I still felt really dizzy. Then I saw it."

"What?"

"The smoke," he said. "That stupid Malarkey, standing in a corner, all doped up."

"You're kidding," she said.

"I'm not kidding." he said. "He was out there getting high. I yelled at him to get inside and wait for me there. So he went in, and I stayed outside, just for a minute, collecting my thoughts, and well, you know the rest."

"I don't," she said.

"Lizzie, you _know_," he insisted. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because – I'm sorry, Robert," she said. "I'm not trying to upset you, I'm just trying to understand what you went through."

"You don't want to know all this," he said.

"I do," she said.

He stared at her for a moment. "All right," he said, with a funny little laugh. "All _right. _You want to know, I'll tell you."

He shrugged. "I was walking inside," he said. "I looked up and – there it was. The chopper. Of course, the chopper. It was coming right for me, Elizabeth," he said with a strange smile. "Like it wanted me."

"Did you try to run?"

"Nowhere to run, baby," he said. "Nowhere to hide." He laughed. "That's a song."

"Robert–"

"Lizzie, you don't understand," he said. "You'll never understand. I hope you don't, actually. Seeing that thing that's going to kill you, watching it lunge towards you with all its might – I hope you never have to see what's that like."

She looked at him sympathetically.

"Don't say you're sorry," he said. "Don't say anything at all."

She looked down, and touched her right cheek absently. She rubbed at it. They were both quiet for a few minutes.

"Did it hurt?" she said finally.

He laughed, an eerie half-laugh. "Lizzie."

"What was it like?" she said.

"It was like..." he closed his eyes for a minute, remembering. "The worst pain I could have ever imagined, for one split second, followed by nothing."

She stared at him wordlessly.

"And then I was gone," he said. "That's the end of the story."

"Robert," she said softly. "You're not....you're not gone."

"I'm not here," he said. "I'm not alive."

"Yes, but..."

"But what?" he said. "But nothing." He leaned back against the couch wearily. "I can relate to nothing. My whole life, when you think about it, has amounted to nothing." He turned and looked at her. "You said as much to Weaver that night, after my memorial service."

"I didn't say that," she said softly. "I didn't mean it that way. I said–"

"At the end of a life, there should be something more," he quoted.

"Yes."

"Well," he said, "Thanks for the sympathy, Lizzie."

"Didn't you ever have any fun?" she said gently.

"Yeah, I had some good times," he said, remembering.

"That's good."

"You know what was fun, Lizzie?" he said. "Working with you."

"Was it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"I'm glad," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

She looked at him, startled. "For – what?"

"For everything. For all the bad things I ever did to you."

"Oh, stop," she said, embarrassed. "Forget it. It was a long time ago."

"You know, a lot of the things I did, I never realized how bad they were," He looked down and looked up at her, looking like a lost little boy. "I just didn't realize how good I had it back then. I should have. I thought everything I had would last forever."

She nodded.

"That must sound really naive to you." he said.

"No, Robert, I understand."

"It took me awhile...to learn," he said. "I still have a lot to learn, I guess. I wish I'd had the chance to–"his voice broke off a little, "become better."

"It's okay," she said gently. She put her hand on his shoulder, stroked his arm.

"I just wish I could change some things, that's all. Between us..." he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lizzie,"

"Robert, it's okay– really–"

"No, not that. I mean, I'm sorry that I never ask you how you are. This whole time, I've been coming here these past few weeks, I've hardly asked how you're doing."

"Well, Robert, you've had a lot on your mind," she said. She smiled.

"So?"

"So, I'm okay," she said.

"I don't believe you," he said.

"I am," she said. She shrugged.

"C'mon, Lizzie," he said wearily. "I've been telling you the truth. You tell me the truth."

"I don't know, Robert," she said. "I don't know what is the truth anymore. That's the honest truth. I don't know how I am, from moment to another. It changes."

He waited patiently for her to continue.

"It's constantly changing," she said. "I'm up, I'm down. I can't sleep. I have the best sleep of my life."

"You had the best sleep of your life?"

"Yeah, it was funny," she said slowly. After you left, after I finished the journal and I was calling to you but you weren't coming around any more, I had the loveliest sleep. When I went to bed I was distraught, but once I fell asleep, it was restful. I slept so well, and I felt comforted. This feeling of–intimacy came over to me. I can't explain it. Well, no that's how I can explain it. I had this intimate feeling, even though no one was there with me."

He smiled.

"What?"

"No, nothing." he said. "So it was good."

"It was _very_ good." she said. "That's what I'm saying."

"Sounds like you're doing well."

"Yeah, I suppose I am," she said cagily. "Listen, Robert, I'm sorry. I'm spending way too much time talking about this, about me. It was nice of you to ask, but really I'm fine."

"Lizzie, this is what I wanted," he said.

"What?"

"For you to be okay," he said. "I think maybe that's why I came here. It all make sense – the poem, the song..."

"What poem?" she said. "What song?"

"Oh," he said. He looked embarrassed. "It's nothing–I've said too much, that's all. Don't worry about it."

"Robert, tell me what you're talking about," she said insistently.

He shrugged and looked away.

"Robert??"

_To be continued...._

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Hope you like it, so far. I think in some ways this is definitely a kinder, gentler Romano (than we saw on the show) – it's the end of his life, so under the circumstances he's a little more willing to let his vulnerability and regrets out, although it's still difficult for him. Anyway, let me know what you think – and thanks for reading!


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